Ecstasy

Chapter 4

My hand itches. Then my leather jacket drags against something that can't be sheets. Leather jacket? I open my eyes. Oh, right. Sitting up I inspect the place that has kept me housed last night. Sand covers the ground, and the orange brick buildings reach high against the sky. It doesn't beat my apartment though.

I smile at my little joke and pull myself from the ground. Brushing off the dirt I check my leg. At least the blood has stilled. But it's still dirty, and it looks like I will get an infection. I straighten up and sigh. Damn that brat. I can't walk out on the street like this. It's one thing to do it at night, when no one can see it, and those who do thinks it's completely normal... Right, I can't walk out on the street, because if I do I'll get shot down by a sniper or some shit.

A sound that very well can be compared to a tiger's roar erupts from my stomach. I would give anything for some food right now. Well, not my life, but almost everything else. There is a dumpster closer to the street. Thinking over looking through it I decide against it, because I'm so far not that desperate, and I also think that those who has to sleep out everyday need the food, that might be in it, more than I do.

What am I gonna do? I can hold on to my credit card, but there's no meaning with it since he will probably never stop looking for me. No way he allow me to just pay it back and let us be even. But that card holds a lot of money...

After a little pondering I take up my card and bend it, making it unusable. I then throw it in the dumpster.

My phone is just as worthless. I pick out the SIM card, in hopes it'll make it harder to trace, but I suspect I'll have to get rid off it altogether. Maybe if I just can get out in the street unnoticed... There's a pawn shop downtown, and I know for sure that the owner would pay for something like my phone.

I look down the alleyway to the busy street outside. Maybe I could go through unnoticed if I just pretend that my wounded leg is part of a costume. If I stay close to other people then it'll be harder to shoot me. Since I'm out of options, I carefully make my way to the street, making sure no one see where I come from. The most people are looking at their phones, so I relax a bit, but my nerves are still pulled harder than an elastic band. Every five meter I walk normally, then I pretend to be practicing my walk, and that's when it actually is the easiest to get forward because of the pain. I get some weird looks, but they look like they think I am weird for wearing a costume, not like they're going to call the police or an ambulance.

As fast as my hurting leg will bear me I hurry to the shop. An middle aged, white man who has had more then his fair share of fat food stands behind the counter.

"How much can you give me for this phone?" I place it on the counter, screen up so he sees that it doesn't have a cracked screen.
"Does it have a card?" He flips it over in his big hands, and I scrunch up my nose at the sight of his dirty white tank top.
"No." I take support at the counter. The man only gives me a quick look before continuing his examination off my phone. He probably thinks I am in need for money to buy more of the drug I seem to be longing after.
"I can give you 50$." I swear.
"50 bucks, are you serious?!" Arguing with a pawnshop owner? I should know better. "Fine, whatever." He looks pleased and gives me the cash. Stumbling I walk out of there, hoping I'll find another way to get money soon.

The darkness doesn't come until late, and by then I'm starved to death. A few men on the street looked familiar, so I ducked into a new alleyway, this one not as clean as the first one. I can barely move with this paranoia going in my head, becoming worse by the second. My head falls to the side, resting against a garbage can. Who walks this far away from the street to throw trash anyway? No wonder the streets are so filthy.

Blood and small stones are glued together on my leg, and every time I try to remove the dirt it stings like hell. I guess the wound is still sorta open. My foot is also going numb. Great stuff.

I lay down on my side, trying to ignore the emptiness in my stomach. What do they say, 'atheist until shit's going down'? Well, I sure as hell am starting to consider starting worshiping whatever god who can help me out of here. 50 bucks might be a lot to some but it ain't worth shit if you can't use them.

In the middle of the night my stomach goes all revolt on me and throw up what I ate the day before yesterday. That's really not helpful. After pulling myself off the ground I wipe my mouth with my sleeve. Gross. The same sound I just did is heard on the street and right after I hear laughter.

"Gross, man!" A boy yells.
"Watch my new shoes!" A second one yells. I crawl deeper into the wall. If these boys are intoxicated I don't wanna be involved. Dealing with them when I'm normal wouldn't have been a problem. But I just threw up on the ground, and I am not famous for my quick recovery skills. Usually it takes a day to get back to normal when I'm hungover, six hours at least. Their footsteps move away and I breath out. Finally my body breaks down of tiredness and exhaustion from throwing up, and I black out.

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